Can't force me out
by Sunnyqueen
Summary: From all the people whom he would be expecting a visit, he was the last person he would have thought. They didn't end up in friendly terms by any means, mostly because he had tried to kill him. M/M. Threesome. Rated M for a reason. Characters: Damien Moreau. Eliot Spencer. Quinn. Mikel Dayan.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, one day an idea filled my head: To make a Damien/Eliot fic... that wasn't settled in the past, so here it goes. **

**I hope you all will like it.**

**Special thanks to Wakko, who, as always, has helped me out with it.**

* * *

"You look haggard." Damien Moreau looked up to the door of his cell: he would recognise that accent anywhere anytime.

From all the people of whom he would be expecting a visit, he was the last person he would have thought. They didn't end up in friendly terms by any means, mostly because he had tried to kill him. But then again, he had tried to kill or actually killed everyone who had been near to him.

"Eliot. What are you doing here?" He asked, narrowing his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of someone manipulating a door to get it open.

"Retrieval job." Came from the other side of the, still closed, door.

"You are… retrieving me?" He asked, surprised. And a bit scared. Why would the man he had tried to kill and that helped to put him in jail retrieve him?

"Well, if you want, I can leave you in here." Eliot said as he pushed the heavy metal door open.

Damien stared at the man in front of him; he looked like he always did: black wife beater under dark blue plaid shirt, worn jeans, black military boots, his leather bracelets, earring and the silver necklace he always wore. His tan skin and long thick mahogany mane remained untouched. But there was something different in him: he looked like the man who used to work for him rather than the man who worked in the Robin-Hood team.

"I think I'll come with you." He stood up and Spencer was able to see how drawn the European looked: his always perfect black hair looked ill and thin, his skin was almost translucent, sign that he hadn't gotten much solar light for the past two years, his green eyes looked tired, but they still had that strength and hardness Eliot always remembered.

"Let's go then."

"Not so fast, Eliot. Why?" He asked.

"Do you really want to have this conversation in here where at anytime the guards and soldiers can show up?" The American asked.

"All right. Where are we going, because I don't think they are going to let me wander through the city."

"And that's why we are going to the villa." Eliot replied.

"The villa your friend Nathan Ford gave to Ribera?" And he never saw coming the hatred glance he got.

"First of all, I'm no longer friends with any of them besides Parker."

"The thief." He said and Spencer gave a short nod. "May I know why?"

"I'll tell you in due time. And certainly this time it's not now."

"Okay, tell me how you got the villa back." He asked.

"Killed Ribera and his family, kept the service." Eliot replied as he opened the back door with a hard kick. "Let's go. Get into the car."

As they drove to the villa Moreau newly owned, Damien realised that Eliot had said 'killed'.

"You killed him? I thought you said you weren't in this business anymore."

"If I weren't in this business no more, why would have I rescued you?" The American growled as he stopped the car in front of the house. "By the way, there's an old friend we have in common in there."

"An old friend?" He asked as he stepped out of the car and started to get into the house, Eliot behind him.

Just like the old times. Eliot was his shadow again.

"And old friend, huh?" He said, looking at him over his shoulder.

"And old friend indeed."

As the crossed the house, Damien realised that Ribera had done some changes in the house: decoration, distribution, the wall painting… And despite those change he was still able to tell that they were going to the bedrooms area.

"Well? Who is this 'old friend'?"

"You'll find in due time, Damien." He could hear in his voice that Eliot was having fun with that, but he didn't mind at all.

They kept walking in silence until Eliot stopped in front of a room and opened the door, stepping to the side and letting the European to step in.

"Thought you would like to have your old room." Eliot said from behind his back and then led him to the bathroom.

And to say that Damien Moreau was dumbstruck, would be an understatement. Eliot Spencer wasn't exactly known for being a gentle man and even less for being a man who cared about others, but tight now, he had given back Damien his villa, killed the former president of the country and retrieved him from jail. That could only mean one thing: Eliot was back. Back to the place he truly belonged: by his side. They would rule the world again.

And before he realised what was going on, Eliot was undressing him, strong, yet rather small, calloused hands were caressing his sides and his fingers trailing over his ribs.

"You definitely need to intake more proteins." He said before he slid the pants down, revealing the, now, naked body of his boss before his eyes. "Take a bath, I'm going to make lunch." He said. "I'll meet you in two hours at the pool." He said before he stepped outside of the room.

Damien went to the bath and started to run the water until it was warm and he stepped in, sighing when the water hit his muscles: it had been damn too long since he had taken a proper bath.

He still had no idea what Spencer was up to, but he did know two things: The first was that he knew he could trust him. There second one was that Eliot was the most loyal person he had ever known and if he had abandoned his crew is was because they had hurt him deeply. Deep enough to make him go back to him, to his side.

After two hours he stepped out of the bathtub, dried himself off with a big, white fluffy towel he found next to the bathtub, and then put a dark blue suit he found in the closet of his bedroom. It didn't fit but he guessed that it was because he had lost a lot of weight over the last two years. He didn't comb his hair though, he, unlike Eliot, wasn't good at dealing with long hair. He went to the pool and arched an eyebrow when he saw that Eliot had all the service lined up in front of the pool. He glanced towards the table and saw that the food was there and covered with a silver cover.

"What's going on?" He asked, stepping next to the hitter.

"Just wanted you to know your service and the service to know you." He said.

"Are you all maids and butlers?"

"Yes, sir." The eldest one, a woman in his old-thirties, replied.

"No cook?" He asked, arching an eyebrow and looking at Eliot.

"She was dreadful." The hitter replied, shrugging carelessly.

"Are you going to cook then?"

"Yeah, I can cook for two people or more."

"What about in meetings? You know I like you to be with me and I can't have you in the kitchen." He said, easily accepting that they really were going to be in the business again.

"Ok. I'll get a cook. A chef or something." Eliot grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

"What about security?" He asked to the woman.

"Mr. Spencer fired all of them." She replied, glancing at the short but imposing man with frightened eyes.

"All of them?" Damien asked, staring at his hitter.

"You didn't need them back then, you are not going to need them now." He simply said. "I did keep one, though. Our_ old friend._" He said and then sat down on the chair, waiting for Damien to join him so they could start eating.

"Well, now you got me. Are you going to tell me who the hell is this old friend?" He said and then sat down across the table. "You are dismissed." He said to the service that quickly disappeared inside the house.

"Maybe." Eliot replied as he took a good swing of his beer. "But not yet."

"All right, I can live with that." He took his fork and put a piece of the perfect seared stake, chewed it slowly and smiled. "Great. As usual." He cleaned his mouth before he spoke again. "Going to tell me why did you put me out of jail?"

"Yeah. I thought you might wanted to be… in top of the word again."

"Ok." He nodded, waiting for more.

"And we both know that I'm the best man you ever got." The black-haired male couldn't help to chuckle at the always-present cockiness on Spencer, but he was right, Eliot was, by far, the best man he ever had in his lines.

When he had hired him, Eliot did not agreed on being another hitter, he had stepped up his game from the first very week: he would take the missions anyone else wouldn't, he had taken Moreau's well-being as his own responsibility, his safety as the first thing on his list. He became his shadow and still did the most dangerous missions. He had replaced five bodyguards, much bigger and scarier than him and yet he did a better job than them.

Moreau had a small circle around him formed by his five closest men and when one day he stepped in with Eliot in his back, they all demanded explanations. The six of them, Damien included, were sophisticate men all wearing hand-made suits, Italian leather shoes, silk ties and perfectly gelled hair. Eliot walked around with plaid shirts, worn jeans, boots (either military or cowboy), untied long hair and on occasion he would wear bandanas or wool hats. Not to mention the jewellery: leather bracelets, earrings and the silver medals he always wore. Eliot stood out like a black stain in a piece of white clothing.

And he didn't give a shit about it.

He wouldn't say anything; he just stood there, behind Damien, arms folded over his chest, eyes hard and always aware to everything that was done in the rooms.

They both were aware of what was being said about them but they never said if it was true or false, they let the people wonder about it, let them stew in their own juices because they knew that no one would dare to ask. Not with the knowledge they could end up dead before they knew it in Eliot's hands.

And no one wanted to meet that fate.

"Yes. Yes you are. Also the most loyal." There was some obvious regret in those words and they both knew it.

"Also the one who betrayed you and you let walk away." Eliot said, putting the fork down and then his hand, in the middle of the table.

And Damien didn't hesitate to cover it with his own, tracing a small scar near his knuckles.

"And do you really wonder why?"

Eliot shook his head before he retrieved his hand back before placing it in his lap. "No. Not really."

* * *

**That's all for now!**

**Please, share a bit of your mind so I can know if you liked it or not!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, here's the second chapter.**

**I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

Damien woke up with the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand; he searched for it and answered the call.

"Eliot, it's only three am in here." He grumbled as he switched the light on and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"**Just wanted to tell that I found who I was looking for."** The hitter said from the other side of the line.

"Great. Then get back here as soon as you can. I need you to do something for me." He said, yawning.

"**All right."** The conversation died right there and Damien drifted off to sleep again.

They had been in the villa for less than two weeks and Eliot was taking care of the security again: he had rehired some of the man that had worked with Moreau the same time he did and no one dared to ask anything or deny. And if they did, Eliot probably had killed them. Spencer didn't like it when someone told him _no_. And three days ago the hitter told him that he was going to hire someone he trusted and knew it was going to be an excellent acquisition for their team.

And of course, he let Eliot do whatever he wanted.

And yet, Spencer hadn't told him why he wasn't playing Robin Hood anymore, why he had abandoned his old team or who was the 'old friend'.

Not that he particularly cared. He had Eliot back with him and that was enough for him not to ask anything, he knew that the American would tell him when it was the right time.

Two days after, when he got out of bed and went to the kitchen only to find a woman, obviously form the Middle East, wearing only sweat pants and sport bra and sitting in what used to be Chapman's place and Eliot making breakfast.

"I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing you, Mrs…" He said gallantly as he sat down on the table and waited for Eliot to bring the food.

"Mikel Dayan." She said, shaking hands with Moreau with energy.

"Eliot? You know I don't like you to bring your girls to the villa." He said, staring at the man who only chuckled.

"First, she is not one of 'my girls'" he said as he brought the food to the table. "Second, she is the one who I went to get. Third, get used to her, she is having the room Cira used to have." The younger male said as he sat down too.

Cira was Moreau's ex-wife. He had only married her for appearances, no feelings were involved on his part and when Cira found out that she left without saying a word. One week later he had received the divorced papers.

"All right. Since it seems to be that we are not going to be properly introduced… I'm…"

"Damien Moreau. From French-Italian-Croatian ascendants. You are one of the most famous grifter, killers in the world. Mossad, CIA, FBI and Interpol were behind you and so did some mobs like the 'Ndrangheta or the Camorra." She listed, smirking. "His team put you in jail two years ago after President Ribera betrayed you. And he has retrieved you from it." She concluded.

Damien stared at Eliot who was sipping his tea. "She is like a female version of you." The European said.

"I told I was going to get the best ones." He replied in his usual raspy voice.

"Where are the others?" He asked, settling his eyes on Eliot.

"The other. Only one more. And he… let's say it's quite difficult to track him down." He explained as he took a muffin and bit it.

"Who is he?"

"And old friend of mine. He helped us… with a con." He said, almost spit and then bit the muffin again, angrily.

"That's fine. If you trust him, I'll have to trust him." Then he turned to the woman, who was observing the two of them with narrowed eyes. "You have access to every room in this villa besides my dormitory and my office unless you have been called in there. You can't kill anyone from the service unless you've been asked too. Can't talk about what happens in here with anyone or else you'll find yourself killed. You can freelance if you want, I'm not going to stop you from doing that, but if you do, I expect to be informed. Everything's clear, Ms. Dayan?" He said, his eyes hard and cold as steel.

"Yes sir." She replied. "If you excuse me, I want to shower." After that he finished her coffee and left the kitchen, leaving the two males alone.

"She doesn't like to take orders, am I right?" Damien said, smiling a bit behind his own mug.

"Yeah. It is said that she killed two of his superiors while being in the Mossad which caused that she cannot go back to Israel and they have been chasing her since then."

"Just like CIA, Interpol, Mossad, FBI, NSA and MI6 among others have been chasing you down?" He asked teasingly.

"Mostly." He stood up and went next to him, only that instead of sitting on a chair, he leaned against the table.

"How did you meet her?" His hand was now resting on Eliot's knee since the hitter had his foot in chair.

"She was running a con with another crew with the same target as… we did." He explained. "And we both suspect she was the sniper who shot me in 2003 in Myanmar." He explained.

"Interesting." Damien stood up and stared at the man: he was wearing jeans and a wife beater only. Definitely he hadn't change over the years.

"Find this other person quickly, all right?"

"Yeah."

And find him quickly he would.

* * *

At the other side of the Atlantic, the Leverage crew found themselves being face to face with The Italian.

"What are you doing here?" Nate asked at her. "I thought we had agreed that once Moreau was arrested, we wouldn't have any other kind of contact."

"Exactly. Thing is that Damien Moreau is not… in jail."

"What?" They said at the same time.

"I thought he was in a maximum security cell." Hardison said. "How did he get out?"

"He had help from the outside. Someone helped him to get out."

"Do you know who?" Sophie asked.

"No. Whomever helped him knew what he was doing: he disabled all the security cameras, knew the passwords of the electronic doors…"

"Don't they have guards in San Lorenzo?" Parker asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Killed. All of them. Thirty guards, none of them alive." She replied in her strong accented voice. "And we believe that this person only used one single gun. Two, tops." She explained. "Hey, where's Eliot Spencer?" She asked, realising that the hitter was missing.

"Eliot is not anymore part of this team." Hardison said. "He left us." At that, the blond woman snickered.

"Do you think he is the one that liberated Moreau?" She asked, frowning slightly.

"Eliot? No. He doesn't kill. And he doesn't use guns." Ford said. "Besides, they ended up badly. He helped to put him in jail."

The Italian nodded: the Leverage crew were the ones that knew the hitter the best, so if they said it wasn't his style, then it wasn't.

"I need you to turn him down. Again." She said. "Or this time, it's not going to be only you "she pointed at Nate" the one going to prison." She stood up and left, not saying anything else.

"We. Are. So. Fucked. Up." Hardison said. "We had hell trying to take him down once, he knows our game, now." He growled.

"Let's take this upstairs." The mastermind said and stood up, the other three trailing behind him.

Once they were sat around the table, they started to talk, to come up with plans, but they realised they had a really big problem: they knew nothing about Damien Moreau besides of what Hardison could find about him which wasn't that much and they needed a fifth member. A hitter.

"We need him. We need Eliot." Parked said, speaking for the first time since they started to discuss everything.

All eyes went to Nate, who sighed; he didn't want Eliot around them, but he had to agree with Parker: they need him around to go against Moreau because he was the person who knew him the best.

"I won't work with him." Hardison stated.

"Hardison, we need him. Or do you want to go to prison?" Nate said. "I don't want to work with him more than you do, but he is the only one who can help us right now."

"There has to be someone else." Sophie pointed out. "Some men that were with him when he came to the States…" She started.

"He killed all of them in that warehouse." Nate interrupted them. "The Italian and I ran away and he took care of them."

"You never told us." The British pointed out in accusatory tone.

"He asked me not to. And we are going way too far from the original point: we need Eliot for this job. After that, we don't have to see him ever again." He turned towards the thief. "Call him, Parker."

And, reluctantly, she did. She dialled the new number of Eliot's phone and waited.

"**Parker?"**

"Eliot!" She exclaimed, happy to hear his raspy voice.

"**What's up?" **

"Nate wants to ask you something." She smirked and tossed the phone to the elder, who glared at her but took the answered it none the less.

There was a tense silence, because since Nate had put the speaker so everyone could hear everything, which at the moment, was silence.

"**I'm having lunch, you know? What the hell do you want?" **Eliot growled.

"Have you heard about Moreau?"

"**What about him?"**

"Someone helped him to escape from jail."

"**So what?"**

"We need your help to get him."

There was another awkward silence during which they could hear Eliot talking to someone.

"**No."**

"What?" Nate asked, shocked, as Sophie and Hardison gasped. "We are offering to work with us one more ti…"

"**You are offering me shit."** Eliot interrupted him, growling. "**You want me to go back with you because you know that you can't get to Damien without me. Well, fuck you guys. Not you Parker."** He said. **"I've got a better job. In which I actually earn money and no tells me what to do. So you better find yourselves another hitter who worked for Damien… and is alive. So no, I won't help you."**

Nate closed his mouth hard and gave the phone back to Parker, who took it and walked out of the apartment.

"Eliot I…"

"**It's ok, Parker. It's not your fault. But I can't come. I can't see them."**

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't say anything."

"**Don't worry. They need you, but if you ever want to meet up or need help for stealing something, don't doubt to call me."**

"All right. Thank you."

"**They treating you right?"**

"Yeah. I just miss you."

"**I know."** Eliot sighed and she could tell that he missed her too. Even if it was just a bit. **"Parker, I gotta go. Have a few errands to run."**

"All right. Have fun!"

"**I sure will. Take care, ok? And don't do too much crazy shit, all right?"**

"I'll try. Bye Eliot."

"**Bye Parker."**

The conversation end up there and she went back inside, sat down next to Sophie and listened to Hardison's rant.

"Was it me or he was speaking Hebrew?" Sophie asked.

"He was." Nate replied. "Since when does he speak Hebrew?"

"I've got no idea. I thought he only spoke German." The European said. "But it wasn't current Hebrew. It was a dialect or something because I didn't understand it at all. And he spoke it really fluently."

"But that's not important right now. What it _is_ important is that we'll end up in jail! Do you know what happens to guy likes me in jail? Huh? Do you?" Hardison yelled in full hysteria mode.

"Calm down. No one is going to prison." Nate said at him. "Now, we need a hitter. Let's see who we have."

* * *

"Everything's all right?" Mikel asked him. They were by the pool with Damien, who was on the phone with some of his old friends while the two hitters were playing Shōgi.

"They wanted me for a job." He replied.

"About him?" She said pointing with her head to their boss. On her boss, since Eliot seemed to have a really close relationship with him. In that week that they had spent together she had never heard Eliot call him 'Moreau' or 'boss' like she did.

"Yeah. Back in the States we were contacted by an Italian woman who said that if we didn't put Damien in jail, she would put Nate in jail when we had just gotten him out. So we did it. Now she has gotten the news that Damien is outside… and she threatened them with the same, only this time all of them go to the big house." He quickly resumed.

"What about that woman? Parker?"

Eliot didn't answer immediately as he seemed to be thinking about his next move. "She's the only one I keep in touch." He replied as he moved his _Keima_.

"Which one is it? The blond or the brunette?"

"The blond." He replied and then moved a bit when Damien sat next to him, one hand on his smaller back.

"Everything ok, Eliot?" He asked.

"Don't worry, Damien. I handled it." He replied, frowning when Mikel moved her _Narigin_.

"Ok. I need to do something inside. You two have fun." He walked away and left his hitters behind, absorbed in their game.

Neither of them replied.

* * *

A few clarifications.

**Shōgi: **Japanesse chess.

**Keima & Narigin: **Pieces from the Shōgi.

**'Ndrangheta:** Italian Mafia-type criminal organisation. Operate in Calabria (South-Western Italy)

**Camorra:** Italian Mafia-type criminal organisation. Operate in Campania and its capital is Naples.

I think this is all I wanted to clarify... Well, I hope you all liked it. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Two more weeks went by: Mikel had adapted quite quickly to her new life, new luxurious life. She was starting to learn Italian, which for her wasn't really difficult since she already spoke Spanish, French and Portuguese. Damien was a good boss, giving her a lot of freedom. San Lorenzo was a really nice country with delicious food and wine and Eliot was quite nice to her as long as she didn't interrupt his cooking session. The first and last time she did, knives flew.

But besides all of that, there was something among other things that had gotten her interest: the relation between Eliot and Damien. It was obvious that there was something more than a professional-business relationship. The way Moreau touched Eliot and the fact that the hitter didn't shook him off, spoke volumes. As well as the fact that Moreau only allowed Eliot to call him by his first name did.

She also came to realise that Spencer's fame was well earned: the man had definitely pulled some of the most difficult jobs. Even her couldn't have done some of them.

They were again next to the pool: Eliot, clothed as usual, was in the phone talking with someone on the phone in German or at least something that sounded German, Damien was swimming and Mikel was laying down on a chair with just a bikini top and really short shorts and reading a book she found at the very well-stocked library the villa had.

At the entrance of the villa, one man made it's way to the front door.

"Sir." Rebecca, one of the maids, said when she saw him.

"Hi Rebecca. What's going on? Why there isn't any guard at the front door?" He asked. That was strange. Ribera always wanted at least two men down at the entrance.

"President Ribera does no longer live in here, sir. There's someone new." She fidgeted and then smiled nervously. "Said that they would be waiting you by the pool."

Frowning, the new arrived man walked to the pool area, stopping short at the sight in front of him: one man in the pool, another one talking on the phone and a woman reading. It couldn't be true. He had been away for less than a month and that bastard came back and stepped over him. Again.

"Mr. Moreau?" The three of them looked straight to him.

"Chapman?" The older man said. "I thought you had kill him." He said looking at Eliot who had quickly hung up his call.

"He was wearing a bullet-proof vest. And I had to do other things than staying to kill him." Eliot said, handing Damien a towel and then stared at Chapman.

"What's he doing here, sir?" He asked to Moreau, completely ignoring Dayan who had left her book alone to pay attention to the three men. He had heard that Moreau had escaped from jail, but he never imagined that he would have stayed in San Lorenzo.

"He has come back." Moreau simply said. "The main question here is: Why were you working for Ribera, Chapman?" He sat down on one of the chair.

"I was looking a way to get you out of jail, sir. Thought maybe he had information about it." He replied, narrowing his eyes when Eliot went stand behind Moreau. Just like he had done some years ago: legs slightly parted, feet firmly planted on the floor, arms crossed over his chest, eyes hard and cold and all his body in tension, ready to get into fight.

"And after two years you didn't do nothing?" He asked and then turned to Eliot. "How long did it take you to figure everything out, Eliot?"

"Couple of months, tops." He replied, although it sounded more like a growl. "Wasn't difficult to sneak in."

Chapman didn't answer that instead he went for another way, something that he knew that would hurt them both.

"He betrayed you, sir." He said.

"That he did."

"How do you know that he won't do it another time? And what happened to your friends, Eliot?"

"That is none of your business." The American said, staying calm, not letting the anger get the best of him.

"He's right, Chapman. Besides, if he has come back is because he knows that this is his place. The place where he truly belongs." He stood up and patted Chapman's shoulder. "You can either stay or leave. But remember that those who leave me don't get too far." He started to go back inside the house, Eliot right behind him and the woman a few steps behind Eliot. And although he really wanted to leave, he followed the three of them inside.

Once in the house, he saw of the men that had worked with him before Moreau was locked up. And while this didn't surprise him at all the fact that there was a woman (a very fine woman, if you asked him) going up and down with them, it did. Moreau never had women in his lines and the only one he allowed around was Cira. And she had a lot of restrictions too. But this woman seemed to have completely liberty.

They had arrived at Damien's office and he didn't even realised that at some point she had changed her dressing and covered herself a bit.

"Take a seat, Chapman." He did as told and watched how Eliot, once again, was behind Damien and how the girl sat down next to him. "Are you going to stay here with us?"

"Yes sir." He replied. Not that he really had any other options. Not so many people would hire someone who had worked for Moreau… Unless you were Eliot Spencer.

"Perfect then. Tell… what was her name?"

"Giulia, boss." Mikel replied.

"Yes, Giulia. Tell her to prepare a bedroom for you. Now, you and Eliot know each other so no need for presentation. But, you do not know her and she doesn't know you. Chapman, this is Mikel Dayan, another mercenary. Mikel, this is James Chapman, he hires the security people and looks for new marks and new clients."

She only nodded and then looked at Eliot. "If he gets the security people, what are you, Eliot?"

"He gets the security people for the house and for small cons. I take care of the security of Damien. And so will you if I'm not around." He explained.

"Ok." She nodded and then stood up. "If you excuse me, it's my meditation time." Damien made and approval sign and she left. Everyone learned that Mikel meditated twice a day and that no one was to interrupt her unless it was an emergency.

"I'll leave the two of you alone. I have some work to do too." Eliot said and then abandoned the room.

"Tell me the truth, Chapman. We both know that you were not trying to get me out of jail." Chapman said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

The British bit his lower lip: he should have known better than to lie to Damien fucking Moreau. That guy was the king of liars.

"Ribera said that he was giving me two options: to work for him or to go to jail… in Britain." He said, licking his lips, head down.

"Next time that something like that happens, I won't be so clement, have I been clear?"

"Yes, sir." He said. "D-do you really trust him?"

"Yes. And that is a matter I won't be discussing with you."

"He is using you." Chapman said.

"Of course he is. But he has come back to stay forever. Something tore him apart from his team, but this is something that doesn't concern you in any possible way, understood?"

"Yes."

"And I don't want to hear anything about it. Tell the men this, ok? And, as usual, you are in charge of them. Mikel is under Eliot's command, though."

"Yes sir." He stood up, ready to leave. "Thank you." He said and then went to find Giulia.

He saw Eliot on the phone again, talking fast in German and gesturing wildly to nothing and growling from time to time. He didn't understand German at all and although Eliot always looked mad and angry, he could tell that he was really mad at whomever he was speaking. After a few minutes he left, not saying anything to Chapman.

God, he hated that man.

He was one of the few men who could say that knew how Eliot Spencer and Damien Moreau met.

Year 2001, The A. Kasteev State Museum of Arts, Almaty, Kazakhstan.

They were in a job where they were supposed to steal a painting, _Jean Baptiste in the woods_. It wasn't one of their usual jobs but for some reason Moreau wanted that painting and they didn't ask. A few days later, they found out that Moreau wanted the painting to convene an auction. For Chapman, who wasn't an art-lover, it was just a current painting, but for all that powerful men, it seemed something extraordinary. And when they were right in the middle of it, Eliot fucking Spencer broke inside the room with his cowboy style and not a single gun.

All that powerful men went to one side of the room and their bodyguards circled Eliot. Chapman himself was there, pointing at him with a gun.

"Who are you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Eliot Spencer." The man replied replied, taking out two knives out of nowhere. "And I want that painting."

"I don't think is going to be possible." One of the bodyguards said and the man in the middle snorted.

"We are about to see that."

Chapman couldn't say he knew how everything happened: before he knew it, Eliot had killed seven bodyguards, knocked four more out, was fighting with two more. He pointed his gun at him and pulled the trigger, but Spencer used one of the men he was fighting with as shield. After that, he didn't knew what happened.

He woke up in a hotel room and while he was still trying to remember everything, Moreau and Keller stormed in, discussing but stopped when they saw that he was awake.

"You all right?" Moreau asked, sighing.

"Yes sir. What happened?" He asked, sitting up and rubbing his temple.

"That man that came in, he killed or knocked all of you out in less than three minutes, took the painting and walked away." Keller replied. "Did he say who he was?"

Chapman closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Spencer. His last name was Spencer. I-I don't remember his name, though."

Moreau didn't say anything after a few seconds. "I want his head." And after, that he left the room.

And then, his torture began: he started to look for him and once he had his name he started to dig into his life, his past, everything. And as deep as he dug, the less he liked that man: Black Ops soldier, still in duty but only used for the most difficult missions, specialist retrieval, lurker, marksman, perfect use of knives and/or swords, hostage negotiator… Had pulled some very risky and crazy missions like killing a congressman in the USA and UN French representative while he was in a meeting. That man had no scruples.

They found him in Belgrade. Or, better said, _he_ found _them_.

Damien and Keller were in the theatre, enjoying some opera that Chapman didn't recognise, when the man showed up, wearing a silk suit, hair tied up and glasses. He looked anything but a soldier-mercenary.

Ignoring all of them, he went to the door but Chapman stopped him, putting his gun in his chest. And the bastard only smirked before he took the gun, discharged it and tossed it somewhere, after that he shoved the British to the side and stepped in.

Damien turned around to remind Chapman that he had said that he didn't want to be interrupted.

His words died in his throat.

"Heard you were looking for me." Eliot said in raspy voice as he served himself a whiskey.

"Yes. Keller." The other man stepped outside. "I didn't appreciate that you took my painting away… without paying."

"Sorry for that. I was just instructed to take it and give it to my client." He replied. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Please." He gestured to the now empty armchair. "You are here to kill me." Damien stated.

"Zapravo i nije." Eliot replied, sipping on his drink.

"You speak Croatian?" Damien asked, pleasantly surprised. From all the hitters, mercenaries he had known none of them spoke any other language besides their mother tongue and English.

"I was in the Croatian Freedom War. Picked some words." He replied.

"I was there too. From 1992 to 1995."

"I was there for six months before it ended." Eliot said. "Very fine women you got in there."

"Yes we do. What was the US Army doing there, anyway?"

"Oh. The US Army? Nothing. I was in a Black Ops kind-of-illegal operation." He replied. "We were there to get some documents and in the way, kill some of the bad guys." He replied and chuckled.

"You know, it's not very usual that I cross my path with a hitter like you. You work fast and clean. Will you work for me?"

And right there, right there with that simple question James Chapman's good life broke into pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

They were so fucked up. Royally fucked up. They had tried to call Eliot once more and the answer had been the same and they hadn't been able to get another hitter: they had called Quinn, but he said he was in a long-time job same answer Mikel Dayan gave them. And Miranda Miles didn't want to see any of them.

"What are we going to do?" Sophie asked. "I don't want to go to prison."

"No one is going to prison." Nate said firmly. "We'll start how we start always: Hardison search everything you have on him. Everything. Associates, known companies, houses, employees…"

"Even Eliot?" The hacker asked.

"_Specially _Eliot." The mastermind of the group replied. "Pull everything you have on him, every file CIA, FBI, NSA, Mossad and any other intelligent company have about him. Got it?"

"Yes sir." He said and started typing furiously.

"What do we do?" Sophie asked.

"He is from Croatia, right?" Hardison nodded. "You'll be going there and try to find something. I don't care what. And go to Serbia and some of the other Easter countries too."

"What about San Lorenzo?" The British women asked.

"I don't think he would stay in San Lorenzo. Not with all the police and the army looking for him."

"I actually would stay there." Parker said and everyone stared at her. "Think about it, no one would think that he is hiding in the place he is being most searched." She shrugged.

"That actually makes sense." Sophie agreed. "Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. Let's do this: Parker, you are going to San Lorenzo. I'm going Croatia. We'll meet in Paris."

"Ok."

Meanwhile, at the other side of the Atlantic, Eliot was breaking into HM Prison Wakefield in a retrieval job to get John Douglas Keller out. He didn't particularly like the man, but Damien ordered him to get the smuggler out and although they had a long and loud argument about that, in the end, he had to do it, but under his own terms: he was going there alone. Meanwhile Mikel was in Bangladesh retrieving someone else Moreau wanted in his lines, which meant that Quinn was in San Lorenzo with Damien.

Silently he got inside the cells and started to walk by, ignoring everyone in the cells that were staring at him and muttering. He stopped in front of one and smirked.

"How you doing, Keller?" He asked, mockingly.

"Spencer. What are you doing here?" The man asked when he recognised him.

"Moreau wants you out. I'm here to get you out." He said as he opened the heavy door and pulled the man onto his feet, checking for injuries.

"What do you mean Moreau wants me out?"

"Well, I don't think it can have more than one meaning."

"Question here is: Since when do you work for Moreau?" The British man asked, narrowing his eyes.

"A month ago. Maybe more, maybe less. Now, let's go. I don't know what's wrong with you Europeans and talking in a prison while being retrieved. Let's go."

Once in the hotel, he shoved Keller into the bathroom and gave him casual clothes, which Keller looked at sceptically.

"It's either that or going naked." He threatened before he fished his phone out and called Moreau.

"**Everything all right?"**

"Yeah. I've got him. I think you should talk to him, though. He doesn't seem very convinced." He said.

"**Put him on."**

"There." He shoved the phone to the elder and then started heading to the door. "I have a couple of things to do before we leave. I'm picking you up in two hours." After that, he left the hotel.

When two hours later Eliot picked him up, no questions were asked. And he couldn't be more thankful. While waiting at the airport he was on the phone with Quinn.

"So, everything is in peace?" He asked.

"**We might have a situation."**

"A situation?"

"**The cameras we have at airport? Parker is in them."**

"Parker." He repeated.

"**Yeah. She has been wandering way too near the villa to be a casualty. What do you want me to do?"**

"Nothing. Let her wander around. Makes sure she does see Damien but not you. We don't need them to suspect anything."

"**All right. What if she sees you or Keller?"**

"You've got Chapman there?"

"**Sure. Chapman! Phone!"** He yelled and a few seconds later the British man took the phone. **"What do you want?"**

"3pm. Airport. You are taking Keller and bringing him to the villa." He growled. "Take one with darkened windows."

Chapman didn't answer; he just growled and then hung up.

"I see your relationship with Chapman is as bad as always." Keller said as they boarded the plane.

"And I don't have any intention to improve it." Eliot replied back. Once in their first class sit, he took out a book, his glasses and started reading while John just started to flip the pages of the magazines.

Thank god it was just a three and a half hours flight. Keller really hated airplanes.

After an hour Eliot had already finished his book and Keller was sleeping and Eliot started thinking on how could Quinn always be so hard to locate. That man was like a damn ninja when it came to covering his tracks.

This time he had to go to a small port town in Denmark where Quinn was doing a retrieval job, a gun of some sort. This time he didn't have to save his ass so he just waited outside, leaning against the wall in front of the warehouse until the blond hitter appeared, frowning to the gun.

"How you doing Huckleberry?" he said, chuckling.

"Quite good." He replied, shaking hands with the Southerner. "What ya doing here?"

"Came to offer you a job. Again."

"You need my help for another con?" Quinn wasn't prepared for how Eliot's hardened to that, but he knew better than ask.

"No. I don't work with them anymore. We had… a disagreement and we are in not talking treatment. Besides Parker." He started to walk, being followed almost immediately. "What do you know about Damien Moreau?"

"Damien… Moreau?" Eliot nodded. "Well, just what everyone knows: former combatant of the Croatian war, grifter, thief, has done almost everything illegal that can be done… He is now in prison, isn't he?"

"He was." Eliot corrected him, smirking.

"He was? Wait a second. Wasn't your… Didn't you help to put him in jail?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I did."

"And you helped him to get out?"

"Not exactly. He didn't even know I was going there." He clarified as he went inside of a five stars hotel. "Come. I need to explain you something."

"Yes, you do. Starting for the fact that you got him out of jail and he walked away with a man he didn't personally know?"

Eliot smiled smugly and opened one of the bedroom doors. " I worked for him some years ago. I didn't do one of the missions and, instead of killing me, as he would have done with any other, he let me walk away. After I broke with Leverage I realised that being a good guy wasn't my place, so… yeah, I retrieved him, got someone besides you and some of the old men that already worked for him when I was there."

"And you want me to join too."

"Yeah. Will you?"

"With Damien Moreau?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, why not? But, what are the conditions? Because I don't think that someone like him is going to let me step in into his lines just like that."

"He will. I'm the one bringing you in which means that he won't ask you anything. As long as you do as asked."

"And what am I asked to do? Or not to do?"

"Easy: you are told to do something, you do it. But only if Damien or I say it. You can ignore the rest. No one is allowed to go into his room without permission besides me. You can't talk to anyone about what we do or what it's said. You can freelance, just let him know." He said.

"Money?"

"You'll live with us in the villa, you have a room for your own and he'll pay depending on what missions you take: the riskier they are, more money you'll earn." He shrugged and Quinn tilted his head to the side, thinking.

"I accept. At least I'll have a permanent job." He said jokingly and Eliot chuckled.

That was one week before. Quinn and Mikel didn't met yet.

Once in San Lorenzo Eliot quickly brought Keller to Chapman who will bring the smuggler to the villa.

"What are you going to do?" Chapman asked.

"I'm going to say hi to an old friend." He replied and then walked away, not waiting for a reply.

It wasn't hard to find Parker, her blond hair stood out in the trees where she was hidden.

"What you doing up there, girl?" He said.

"Eliot? What are you doing here?" She asked coming down of the tree.

"Visiting Capitan Flores." He replied. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Moreau is in the house." She replied and gave him the binoculars.

"I see. He always liked too much that damn house." He replied, smiling a bit before giving back the binoculars back to her. "How long have you been up there, Parker?"

"All day." She replied, smiling before she hugged him tightly. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, crazy head." He replied, hugging her with one arm.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything but I…"

"I know. It's ok. I wouldn't ask you to walk away from your family." Eliot whispered.

"They were your family too. And families don't do that to each other."

"You'd be surprised. But no, they were not my family. People like me we don't have family. At one point, something happens and backs are turned to us. Why don't we go have a coffee? He is not going to move from there."

"How do you know that?" She asked, following him to the village.

"I spent five years with him, Parker. I'm probably the person who knows him the best. I know everything about him: what food he likes, what food he dislikes, his real birthday date, at what time he goes to sleep, everything." He said, shrugging. "So, tell me, did Hardison already find what I did for him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Parker, you are chasing Damien again. That means you need everything you can get abut him. I'm not expecting you not to open all the files about me." He shrugged and opened the door to a café. "Do you steal freelance?" He suddenly asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Would you steal something for me?" He asked, smiling a bit.

"Sure. What is it?" That had lifted her mood considerably.

"I need some documents from the French Defence Minister about a bomb, project's name is "Project 3X5F89", but I can't go to France."

"You killed someone in there?"

"Yeah… I'm not going to tell you who, though." He smirked and she nodded. "Thank you, Parker."

"It's the least I can do. When do you need them?"

"The sooner the better." He just finished saying that when his phone rang. After a few words he smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. Flores needs me to consult something."

"Sure, don't worry. I already seen Moreau and I have to meet Sophie in Paris. She is in Croatia. I'll go to the Louvre, too." She replied and Eliot did something he never did before: he kissed her cheeks softly.

"Call me if you need anything."

"Ok. Eliot, wait. What do I do with the documents once I have them?"

"Right." He grabbed a napkin and wrote an address down. "Send them in here."

"Spain?"

"Yes. This is where my contact is; he'll send them to me. I don't want to put your life in more risk than necessary." He said and she nodded, hugging him again.

"Take care."

"You too, don't do too much crazy shit."

He quickly left after that and went back to the villa, were Damien was waiting for him at the entrance.

"Where were you?" He asked, starting to go back inside the house.

"Parker. Went to say hi to her. Got her to steal something for me from the French government." Eliot replied.

"She suspects anything?"

"No. I told her I was here to visit Captain Flores. And I found out that Sophie is in Croatia, probably looking for something related to you." He said, smiling and Damien smiled a bit too.

The European wasn't a bit surprised that Eliot had found all of hat in less than two hours; he knew how to make people trust him.


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn stared at Eliot and Moreau. They were staring into each other's eyes. They had gotten into another screaming match (last weeks seemed to be full of these), this time about moving out of San Lorenzo or not. Eliot wanted to go to a small Principality between Spain and France, in the Pyrenees that didn't have extradition treads with any country, just like San Lorenzo. On the other hand, Moreau refused to abandon his villa.

"For God's sake Damien, the damn Army is outside, waiting for an order to get inside here and kill everyone they find in their path!" Eliot yelled, his twang deeper than usual. "And I wouldn't say that Flores likes you a lot!"

"We wouldn't be having this problem if you would have killed him when you were supposed to!" The European yelled back, completely losing his always-calm composure.

And everyone saw how Eliot froze, eyes closing and hands clenching. And when he opened them again, everyone could see the Eliot Spencer everyone knew about: the killer with no scruples. "Is that what it is, Damien? Are you punishing me?" He asked softly but with a clear threat tone in his voice. "Are you just willing to stay here, to put your own life at risk, to remind me that I didn't kill Flores when you asked me too?" He asked.

But Damien never replied, he just stared at his best killer before he nodded. "We'll move." After that he abandoned the room, Eliot behind him.

Just as if nothing had never happened.

"What the hell was that?" Quinn asked Chapman, who was sipping from his Scotch whiskey.

"That was Eliot convincing Moreau." He replied. "As you might have already understood, Eliot is the only one who can yell at Moreau and not be punished." The blond American nodded.

"What about Flores? Isn't he the General of the Army?"

"He is. Eliot was supposed to kill him some years ago, he didn't and Moreau let him walk away." He almost spat. "But don't worry, you'll be hearing this screaming matches a lot for the next two months." He said, smirking.

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked him.

"Moreau loves this villa. And he doesn't want to walk away. There fore he'll be moody for about two months. He only yells at Eliot, then again Eliot is the only one who can and dares to yell at him. So Moreau we'll feign that he is in a good mood in front of the other men, but around us, he'll be angry. And even the most insignificant thing can be the door to a long, deep, loud discussion between him and Eliot which will bring back some old arguments."

"How do you know all that?" The hitter asked.

"It has happened before. You know why we moved to San Lorenzo? Because Eliot asked Moreau to. Before we were in Croatia but it was getting dangerous for Moreau so Spencer convinced him to move here with honeyed promises: power, more money, a country to rule… and no extradition. That's what did it. One week later we were here. It always the same, they yell at each other and then they go to Moreau's office and talk. Without yelling."

"You don't like Eliot." Quinn stated.

"No. I can't stand him. Then again, he doesn't like me either, so I guess we are even. But he plays with advantage."

"What do you mean?"

"Between him and me, Moreau will always trust Eliot first. I've seen it. First day he was in he found out that there was a traitor in _my_ men: he had seen him giving details to the police. I tried to defence him, not believing that one of my own men could be giving information to the police. Eliot killed him in front of my own eyes with bare hands. I was the one who had to dispose the body. I lost a lot of trust in front of Moreau's eyes that day." He made a paused and emptied his glass in one swig. "How did you and Eliot meet?"

"I was hired for an insurance company that was after Eliot's old crew, to kill him. I broke one of his ribs and after a fight he knocked me down. A couple of years later or so he contacted me and offered me a job. We did it and the next thing I know is that he is contacting me again to offer me a job in Moreau's lines." He shrugged. "But I thought there was another hitter."

"There is. A woman. She's in Bangladesh doing another retrieval in there. She should be back tomorrow." He explained. "Moreau said that she is the female version of Eliot. And seriously, they have the same bad temper when you interrupt them."

Meanwhile, Eliot and Damien were in the European's office. The American was sitting on the table and Moreau on the chair, not saying anything.

"I'm sorry." The black haired man said softly and that made Eliot look up immediately: it was the first time he had heard Damien apologise… and mean it. "I didn't mean to say that. I know it was wrong." He said.

"It's ok. I should have done my job." He replied. "We don't really have to move, but I think it's the best. At least for now."

"Do we have a house there?" He asked, his hands resting on his hitter's knees. Because Eliot was his.

"I have two options, I wanted to wait until you saw them to buy one of them." The American replied as he turned around and grabbed Damien's laptop and put it on his own lap and then gave him a paper. "Here, type this."

"Thought you said you had learned something about IT while you were with them." He said.

"I did fine without knowing anything about that, right?"

"You did fantastic." He was about to say something when Spencer's phone rang. "Who is it?" He asked, frowning: not too many people had Eliot's phone.

"Mikel." He replied before he answered the call while Damien kept watching the houses Eliot got. "Mikel, what's up?" He asked.

"Well, we got here a day earlier and the area is surrounded by the Army. How do we get in?" She asked, irritation in her voice.

"Shit. I'll take care of that." He put the laptop on the desk and jumped off the table.

"What is it?" Damien asked, following him.

"She is out there." He growled. "Quinn! Stay with Damien, I'm going out!" He said to the blond hitter who was talking with Chapman.

"You are what? The army has the whole perimeter surrounded!" The other American exclaimed, looking at him as if he had gone nuts.

"I know." He growled and took the two guns he knew Quinn had. "Chapman, you are coming with me. And you and you too." The head of the Security Personnel looked at Moreau, who nodded briefly. "Chapman, I want you to tell them that you are me."

"What for?"

"Just do it." The American growled at him.

So Eliot, Chapman and the two gun-boys, as Eliot used to call them, walked down right at the entrance, where he knew Flores was, waiting patiently, probably in the van.

He stopped right in front of the door and soldiers quickly raised their guns at them and quickly the two gun-boys did the same.

"I want to speak with General Lawrence Flores." The British said as he stepped next to Eliot.

"Who are you?" One of them asked.

"Eliot Spencer." Chapman replied.

"Co-commander Eliot Spencer? General's friend?" The other one stuttered. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am pretty sure that I'm Eliot Spencer, now open that damn door so I can get out and go talk with Flores." He growled, frowning and they didn't hesitate to do as asked.

They crossed the open door and Chapman and Spencer walked to the van along with the two soldiers.

"You two wait here." Chapman said to his men. The soldiers were abut to knock when Eliot knocked them out, pulled his phone out and sent and sms to Dayan telling her that they could get in. "Why did you that?"

"We don't need Flores to know that I'm here. Yet." He replied as he closed the door and walked up to the house.

"Why did you take us? To demonstrate that you have more power than I do?" He asked, turning to face the slightly taller man.

"I don't need to do anything to demonstrate I have more power than you, _James_." He replied, smirking. And, at that, the British put his gun in his neck, action that was imitated by the hitter. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"And why not?"

"If one of us comes out injured, who do you think Moreau is going to believe? His little pet security guard or the man that used to be in his bed, huh?" Eliot asked mockingly. "I might have failed him. I might have killed most of his men in that warehouse. I might have put him in prison. But I've never worked for the man that also put him in prison." After that he walked away, to Mikel, who was watching the scene from the car, leaning against it. "Everything ok?"

"Couple of problems with some prison guards, nothing serious, though." She replied and opened the door from where a haggard-looking man came out. "Do you know who he is?" She asked. "Because he is not telling me anything and boss-man didn't give me clearance to torture him." She sounded really pissed off that Damien didn't let her torture him.

"No idea who he is." He shrugged and head up into the house and straight to Damien's office, where he supposed he would be, being followed by the other three. When he opened the door Quinn moved from Damien's side so Eliot could take his place but as he did so, he suddenly stopped when he eyed the woman in the group. "Oh yeah, Mikel this is Quinn. Quinn this is Mikel Dayan."

"I know. We've met before." He said, frowning as he stood next to Chapman.

"If you can leave us alone." Damien said and Quinn, Chapman and Dayan abandoned the room. "Sajid Nandi." He bended over a bit and then held out a hand.

"Mr. Moreau." The man said with a strong Indianish accent.

"Care to introduce us, Damien?" Eliot asked when Damien sat down again, frowning at the guy.

"Nandi, this is Eliot Spencer."

"The guy who has a price in his head?" The European nodded as he sipped from his scotch. "I heard the guards talking about you quite a few times. They raised the price on your head." He told him.

"Eliot, this is Mijan Sajid Nandi. We had a few businesses together after… you left. He is going to work with Keller. We need a back up for the countries Keller can't get to and vice versa." He said. "Eliot, can you get Gina to prepare a room for him, please?"

"No."

"What?"

"Have you chosen the house yet?" He asked, completely ignoring the just arrived guy.

"I really like the first one." Moreau replied. "Why? What did you do?" He asked, suspicious and narrowing his eyes.

"I… Do you mind?" He said to the guy, who looked at Moreau that nodded and Sajid stepped outside the office.

"Well?"

"I knocked down to of the soldiers. They are going to be up in four hours. Five tops."

"You could have killed them." Damien objected, turning his chair a bit to face him from his position.

"And if I did, we would be probably all dead or, in the best case scenario in jail." He replied. "I have a house at Spain, we'll stay there until the house is ready to move in. A month top."

"And how do you plan on do that?"

"Well, Chapman and Keller don't need to use his passport and either do you. Quinn, Mikel and I don't either because we have the WVP or sorta. I'll do something with your Nandi guy. The rest don't have criminal records and most of them don't need to use the passport either." He explained. "Nice thing this European Union you've got going on in the side of the ocean." He said, leaning against the table.

"How long have you been planning this, Eliot?" Damien asked, amused. After so many years, he tended to forget that Eliot wasn't no fool, no dumb, even if you would tell that by his image.

There was a silence before he replied. "Since they called me."

"Since they called you? About a month and something ago?" Eliot nodded. "And you didn't told me?"

"Would you have listened to me?" He asked back, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

And not wanting to start a new argument, Damien just took a swig of his drink. "Gather everyone." He said and Eliot nodded before leaving. "Eliot." He called him.

"Yes?" He turned around.

"You know I trust you, right? I would put my life in your hands without hesitating." He stood up and walked up to him and framed his favourite's hitter face with one hand.

"I know." Eliot smiled a bit. Not the mocking smile. Not the sadistic smile. A soft, real one. One that he seemed to keep just for a very few people.

Damien let his hand fall and Eliot walked out of the room.

Meanwhile, in Portland, Nate was on the phone talking with The Italian.

"She says that San Lorenzo's Army has Moreau's villa surrounded with no way to get in or out of it."

"Then we are not going to jail." Sophie cheered up.

"Not exactly. She wants as too leave him nothing. No money, no house, no contacts, no business. Nothing."

"And how are we going to do this shit?" Hardison asked.

"By going to San Lorenzo. We'll have a meeting with General Flores." Nate replied.

There was a short silence before Parker spoke. "I saw Eliot."

"What?" Hardison said, looking at her.

"I saw Eliot. At San Lorenzo. We had a coffee." She said.

"You had a coffee with Eliot. What was he doing in San Lorenzo?" Ford asked, frowning.

"He was there with General Flores. Something about strategy to get to Moreau." The blond explained.

"Well, at least we know that he isn't working for Moreau." Sophie asked, relieved.

"Yes. At least we know that." Nate replied as he stared at the photos Parker did in San Lorenzo and the files Sophie got in Croatia.

Something was wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

"Everyone's ready?" Damien asked to his staff and everyone nodded. "Let's go then." He turned to Eliot "How are we doing this?"

"Keller goes with Quinn. Nandi goes with Mikel. Three guards in each car. Chapman and I come with you. Two body guards. Rest of them are split up in the vans." He said. "We are in the second car. In front of us, Keller. Behind us, Nandi. Two vans in the front and two more vans at the back. Each car will take a different route to the airport. Gate 6, will meet there in half an hour." He said. "Clear?"

"What about when we land?" The Croatian man asked as he started to move to his car, a couple of men putting his bags inside.

"We have two cars waiting for us at the airport. The men will have to take taxis." Chapman replied as he climbed at the passenger seat.

"And how are we going to get out of here? You do remember that the Army is still out here, right?" Keller asked and both Eliot and James stared at him with narrowed eyes. Hating the British smuggler seemed to be one of the few things that they agreed on. The other one being protecting their boss/former lover.

"I'm taking care of that." Eliot said and then turned to Mikel and Quinn and muttered something in Hebrew, knowing that both of them could understand Hebrew.

They had a quick chitchat that no one else understood and then the blond hitter handed Eliot two guns and Mikel gave him two extra chargers. After that he walked up to Moreau and smiled at him. Something that he hadn't really did since they had gotten together. They went to one corner where no one could hear them.

"What are you going to do?" Damien asked, cursing in his mind when his voice trembled.

"Open your way." He replied. "Listen, I've talked with the driver of your car. He'll stop for five minutes at a crossroad, if I'm not there in five minutes, you are to leave me." He said.

"I'm not going to leave you behind." Damien said.

"But you are. I didn't retrieved you out of jail so after less than two months you are going back to it!" Eliot exclaimed. "I've given instructions to Quinn, Mikel and Chapman. And if they have to drag you to the plane, don't have any doubt that they will do it." He said.

"Eliot…" He started but the blue-eyed man shook his head.

"You know me, Damien. Nothing is going to happen to me. I killed what… twenty of your guys with just two guns in that warehouse? And I killed thirty at the jail." He said as he took of his silver medals. "But, if something happens to me, if I cannot get to you, I want you to have this." He put said medals in his hands.

"El, please." Damien was almost pleading. It was really hard to scare him, but when it came to the American, he couldn't help but worry. He didn't even realised that he had called him by his old pet name. Yes, he knew that Spencer was one of the best hitters in the world right now, but Eliot always put himself in the ways harm to protect him.

"I'll be fine, I promise." He said.

Damien tightened his grip around the chain, put it inside the pocket of his shirt and then, without saying a word, he grabbed Eliot's face, framing it with both hands, leaned in a bit and kissed him right on the lips, much to everyone's surprise.

The Croatian licked his lips, asking for entrance, which was granted right on the spot. Eliot gripped his forearms and returned the kiss hungrily, putting up a fight to dominate the kiss but letting the slightly older man dominate him. When they split up, Moreau caught the hitter's lower lip between his teeth and sucked gently.

"Be careful." The European only said.

"Always." The smaller man replied, smirking. "Now get into that car." After that he walked away, to the driver of the first van and gave him instructions about when to start driving out of the villa. "Ok. Start getting inside those cars." The only ones who didn't move were the other two hitters who walked up to him.

"You sure you'll be all right?" Quinn asked and Eliot snorted. "And what was that kiss? Because man, that was a kiss with all its meanings."

"I'll tell you another day." He said as he started to walk up to Damien's car. "Here, take this." He threw his jacket inside the car before getting outside of the garage.

He walked up to the fence, smirking at the guards. Before any of them could say anything he shoot them, killing them. He opened the door of the fence and waited until the others arrived. And when they did, they faced what most people recognised like the face of the Death: fiery face, cold blue eyes, mocking smirk and two guns. A handsome Death, but Death none the less.

People that had worked with Eliot before _and_ had seen him using guns, knew that the way he charged them and the way he retired the safe was more than a ritual, he was giving his opponents advantage to shoot him. But no one ever did, because it was something that was a _must have to_ be seen.

Even Chapman, who had seen him perform it for almost five years, could help himself but stare at the 'performance' in that warehouse. Which ended up with him knocked out, Eliot free and alive and Moreau in jail.

When the cars drove past him, Moreau couldn't do anything not to check quickly only Eliot, almost sighing when the hitter looked at his way and smirked before taking down two guys.

It wasn't long until General Flores appeared in a car, frowning when he saw all of his men on the floor, dead. All of them, and only one standing figure in the middle. His shirt and jeans were stained with blood (lots of little red drops of blood), long brown hair and fiery, dangerous blue eyes.

"Spencer?" The general asked. "Wh-what happened here? What are you doing here?" He couldn't believe his eyes: what was doing the hitter there?

"C'mon, we both know that you suspected it was who retrieved Damien out of jail." He said, walking up to him.

"You what? It was you? B-but why? You hated him so much!" Flores exclaimed, shocked.

"Hated him? No, don't get it wrong, General, I never hated Damien. I hated the fact that I failed him." He said, as if seriously considering the fact of hating Moreau. "I hated the fact that he didn't kill. That he had _replaced _me with Chapman." He shrugged before he shot at the other two soldiers, who were looking at each other without understanding anything.

"But then why…?"

"Because I thought a family. And I wanted to protect them. Turned out that they were not." He said.

"They are going to find you. They'll know that it's you." The older man said.

"Are you sure? No one can tell. Unless they can talk to dead people which I'm fairly sure that they don't." He stared at his guns. "Besides, I know their game, General, I know hoe they act, how they move. But they don't how I play. They don't know how Damien play." He walked up to him and put the gun in his temple. "I should have killed you when I was supposed to, Lawrence. Would have saved me a lot of trouble. And pain."

"They will find you. Doesn't matter what you." He smirked, licking his lips.

And then pulled the trigger. No remorse in his eyes. He stared at the corpses around him before he started running down hill with a bike he had hidden a few nights ago to meet with Damien's car. He had taken a bit to long talking with the General.

Once next to the car, he opened the door and climbed in, right next to Damien who smiled before cleaned a bit of blood that was really near his lip. Eliot could tell that the Croatian was checking him over for injuries.

"I'm fine, Damien." He said. "A couple of scratches and bruises, nothing serious though. I told you I would be fine."

"You did." He said as he put the chain back around his neck, massaging there a bit. "Flores?"

"Taken care of." Chapman snorted and turned around to say something. "Properly." He said as he grabbed a towel and cleaned a bit his face.

When they reunited inside the plane, Eliot walked towards his fellow hitters and sat down next to Quinn.

"Why I'm not even surprised to see that you made it?" The blond asked, arching an eyebrow and Eliot just snorted, giving him back his guns.

"You look like you bathed yourself in blood." Mikel said.

"I'll take a bath when we get to my house."

"About that. How big is it?" She asked, giving Eliot a beer.

"Not too much. Not in the main building, at least. But there's the service house and I since I don't have any service, the men can sleep there. We three, Damien, the smugglers and Chapman can fit all in the main house if we share room." He said.

"If we share room." Quinn repeated.

"Yeah. You and Chapman, the smugglers together, Mikel… you get a room for your own and I'll share it with Damien." He said.

"Share what?" Moreau asked from his side.

"Rooms. My house is not big enough, so we'll have to sleep at least two per room… Unless you want to sleep with the service." He smirked and Damien imitated the gesture before going back to his seat.

"How long is the flight going to take?" Keller asked.

"An hour, Keller, an hour." Eliot and Chapman growled at the same time at the British smuggler.

After that everyone stayed in silence or talking in whispers, doing something quiet: Damien was reading, just like Eliot and Nandi were, Mikel was doing Sudoku on her phone, Keller seemed to be praying to god and Chapman and Quinn were talking quietly.

"So, do you know anything about… the kiss?" The hitter asked, arching an eyebrow. The European looked at him: at least the blond was easy to talk with, not like the other two: Eliot was just Eliot and he didn't want to talk with him more than the necessary. And Mikel was… like Eliot. Now, he had nothing against her but she didn't really seem to be into talking. Or at least not with him, because he did see her talking with the other two hitters.

Chapman looked at his boss and then to the hitter, and since none of them seemed to be paying any attention to them, he replied. "They used to be lovers." James said.

"They used to be what?" He repeated, blinking. Now, to surprise a hitter was something difficult, but right now, the head of security, did it with just one sentence.

"Lovers."

"So the rumours were true." The British looked at him, tilting his head, as if asking what were the rumours. "There was a rumour that said that Eliot was gay. No one could ever confirm that it was true though. His reputation with women is well known for everyone so we thought it was just that. A rumour." He explained.

"Well, he definitely is bi. He used to bring girls around at the villa, or the hotel, or wherever we were, it was something usual. And Moreau didn't care too much. He always let's Eliot get away with his way. Next thing I know is that they are sleeping together." He growled, looking at Damien's and Eliot direction who were now talking too.

"That's why Moreau let him walk away." Quinn said, understandingly.

"And why he let Eliot come back."


	7. Chapter 7

"Eliot!" A woman, not older than twenty-five, exclaimed when he opened the door of the fence. "You should have called! I have nothing prepared!" She said, with a really strong Southerner accent.

"It's okay, Sandra." He said. "These are my… friends. They are going to stay here with me for some weeks before we move." He explained as he led everyone inside.

"All of them, Eliot? How are you going to fit almost thirty men in here?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No. The men with the black suit will stay at the service wing. Only the seven of us are going to stay here." He said, pointing at them.

"There aren't enough rooms!"

"We'll share them." He replied.

It wasn't long until everyone was accommodated in the rooms. Eliot was inside the bathroom taking a shower when Damien stepped in, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes wandering over the muscular body.

"How come your housekeeper didn't even blink when she was that you were covered in blood?" He asked as he handed a towel to him.

Eliot took it wrapped it around his waist before he started drying his hair off. "His brother, an old acquaintance of mine, was also a hitter. He was ten years older than her. He died when she was just twelve. He made me promise I would take care of her." He explained. "I sent her to a boarding school in Oklahoma and once she was old enough to decide what she wanted to do, she said she wanted to come back here. She's studying at the University and lives here, therefore I don't have to hire a housekeeper." The hitter explained.

"So basically you have a daughter." He said.

"A daughter? I see her more like a sister, Damien." Was the reply.

"She knows what you do for living?"

"Yeah." They walked back into the room and Spencer dropped the towel to get dressed, the fact that Moreau was there not bothering him at all. He had seen him naked countless times, anyway. "Quinn and Mikel suggested to visit the city, wanna come with us?" He proposed.

Damien didn't reply immediately, he narrowed his eyes and frowned. "You had never spent so much time with someone." He observed.

"I didn't have anyone I considered a friend, Damien." He observed back, arching an eyebrow.

At that his frown deepened as he walked up to him, caging the hitter between the wall and his body. He knew that Eliot could shove him away with just two fingers, but he also knew that the hitter wouldn't do that to him.

"And what was I?" He growled in his ear.

"My boss. My lover." The blue-eyed man simply replied, positioning his strong hands on Damien's hips. "Are you coming, then?"

"Can't. I have some calls to do." The European replied and the other male nodded.

"Use my office then. Ask Sandra; she'll lead you there. And we can go another day just you and me." Eliot suggested, smirking and Moreau smirked just the same.

"All right. Don't kill anyone." He said when Eliot stepped outside the room and the hitter chuckled as he joined the other two in the patio.

He watched how Eliot joined them and he couldn't help but growl when Eliot wrapped an arm around Mikel's waist. He didn't know what was going on between them, but obviously there was something more than just friendship between them.

And he didn't like it at all.

He turned around and went to look for the housekeeper, or Eliot's sister, or whatever Sandra actually was. He was waling by one of the corridors when he ran into Chapman. "I thought you would join them." He said.

"With Eliot?" The British retorted sarcastically, arching an eyebrow and walking besides his boss.

"With Quinn." Damien corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"Chapman, I read, cheat and kill people for living. And I'm good at picking details. And the proximity you and Quinn have… acquired is something else than business relationship. At least on your side." The Croatian pointed out. "Any way, have you seen Sandra?"

"Who?"

"The housekeeper." He pointed. "I need to find Eliot's office." He said.

"Ok."

They searched for the woman together and when they found her, she looked at them. "Can I help you?" She asked as she wrote something in her notebook.

"I was looking for Eliot's office." Damien said.

"Why?"

"Need to make a phone calls. He told me you would lead me there." She stood his glare for a few more seconds before standing up.

"Come with me." She led them to Spencer's office. "Could I talk to you for a moment, Mr. Moreau?" She asked, looking at him in the eye. And Damien couldn't help but think that Eliot really did rub on her.

"Of course. Chapman, you have the rest of the day off." He said to the head of security, who nodded and abandoned the room. "What can I do for you?"

Sandra didn't say anything for a few seconds; she just stood there and then turned around. "Eliot saved my life. He took care of me, a girl he didn't know." She said.

"I know. He told me." There was something about this girl that remembered a lot of his hitter. Maybe the accent, maybe the security she had on herself, the way she spoke with no fear to him.

"Alright. He saved my life. She repeated and then turned around. "And I'm going to make everything in my power to spear him pain. I see how you look at him, Mr. Moreau. I know you are the one who hurt him deep enough so he almost went crazy. Not because his heart was broken, he can handle this. No, he was going crazy thinking that you would end up in jail. Or killed." She took a small Chinese statue and blew on it, removing the dust. "Will you hurt him again?"

"Excuse me?" It wasn't often that Damien was surprised, but just like her brother-protector; Sandra seemed to have the capacity to do so. And he didn't like it at all.

"Will you hurt him again?" She repeated.

He didn't answer immediately; he just looked at his hands. He had never meant to hurt Eliot, but sometimes he forgot that not everything in the world was work and work and work.

"I won't." He said, solemnly. Sandra didn't say anything; she just nodded and left the room, leaving him alone.

He sighed and sat down, behind the table and took the phone to make a call. "Allô?" He said and then chuckled. "Damien Moreau, mon amí. Oui. I'm back in the game, Jean-Phillip." He said.

"**I had heard that you were in jail."**

"And now I'm out."

"**I know that too. I also heard from some nasty things that happened to the San Lorenzo Army."**

He hummed in appreciation at that. "We should have a meeting."

"**Sans doute, I have some business you could be interested."**

"I'm in Spain. We should meet at a midpoint. How about Madrid in two days?"

"**Sure. Haven't been there in a long time. Twelve pm."** They hung up and it was then that something on the desk caught his attention.

A photo. The only photo he had seen so far in the house. Or under Eliot's possession. It wasn't really big, but it was a photo of them. Eliot and him. Together. They were by the pool. He remembered that day. He had given a week off to everyone and most of them went outside the country. To visit some old friends, family, freelancing… besides Eliot. He stayed with him, saying that he didn't have any jobs on sight, all his friends were on duty and he had no family in Europe. But underneath this, Moreau it was just that he wanted some time alone with him. They had never said it out loud, though. It was something they knew. They spent a most of their time inside the bedroom, but the last day before everyone came back, Eliot insisted that they had lunch by the pool. He cooked it, as always, they ate it and then they laid down on the deck chair.

Eliot was sleeping on his chest. He didn't usually fall sleep during day, but even him had his boundaries, and having sex and sleeping only ninety minutes per day during six days meant that at some point he would crush. He was just glad that it had been then and there. It wasn't usual that he could admire his lover sleeping, so he took a photo.

The same photo he was holding right at the moment.

He stayed inside the office, just looking at everything for the next hour until his hitters came back. Loud laughs could be heard coming from the outside, so he just stood by the window and opened it. He didn't say anything, but he saw that they all three understood him.

Two minutes later they where at the office. He arched an eyebrow when he saw both male hitters wearing jeans and long sleeved jeans. It was dying hot in there and the both of them seemed awfully comfortable in them. On the other hand, Mikel was wearing a white linen shirt and her super-short short jeans.

"What is it?" Eliot asked.

"We are going to Madrid in two days." He announced.

"Madrid? Why?" This it was Quinn, who asked.

"We are having a meeting with an old friend." He replied as he sat down and Eliot positioned himself behind him. Old customs where difficult to get rid off, even if the other ones in the room where friends.

"Who?" The Southerner American growled.

"Jean-Phillip." He replied. "We'll leave… How long does it take to get to Madrid?"

"Twenty-Thirty minutes by plane."

"We'll leave at nine to go to the airport. Eliot, you'll come inside with me. The two of you will wait outside the room. Jean-Phillip is a good friend, but things might get rough. And he has good men in his lines too." He arched an eyebrow when the three of them, snorted, at the same time. "I said good men. Not the best ones." He pointed out.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the USA, the Leverage crew looked at the photos that they were being showed.

"What's this?" Nate asked to the Italian, pushing the photos away. He was a mastermind. Blood and carnage weren't his things.

"This is San Lorenzo's Army." She started. "Someone took them down. Probably the same man who killed the men at the prison."

"Are you saying that one person killed like… what twenty heavily armed guys with one or two guns?"

"And Flores."

"Flores? The General?"

"Yes. Doctors said he was the last one to get killed. But that's not the worst thing." She said, sitting on the other side of the table.

"It isn't?" Sophie asked as she flipped the photos over.

"No. The worst thing is that Moreau's villa was empty. It had been all cleaned, not a fingerprint. Nothing. The only thing that we know as that he and his men are out of the country."

"Are they still in Europe?"

"He has a private plane and we have not been able to track him down." She closed her eyes. "We do believe that he is still in Europe. Maybe northern Africa. Most of his contacts are around the Mediterranean. And Russians." She explained.

"What about the gunman?"

"Nothing. There are no fingerprints on the bodies, not a fibber, not a recording. He definitely is a professional. Long time in the business. Probably done this his whole life." She said. "We are running possible people. Lot of names came up. We are starting by Europeans." She pulled out another photo. "We know that Leith Chapman is working for him again."

"Chapman?" Hardison spoke. "I remember this guy. He was by the pool when we found out that… _he_ worked for Moreau. They didn't seem to have a good relationship."

"He? Who is _He_?"

"Eliot." Parker replied bitterly.

* * *

As night hit Spain, everybody moved to their new rooms. When Moreau got into his room, Eliot was reading, in the side of the bed that faced the door (as always) so he slid inside and lay down, staring at the ceiling.

"Do you want me to switch off the light?" Eliot asked, putting the book down and he turned around, lying on his side.

"If you don't mind." He replied and the American put the book on the nightstand, took of his shirt and switch the light off, lying besides him. "Eliot?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is it so freaking hot in here?"

"Because this part of Spain is like a desert." He answered.

"Great. I'm going to die. Roasted like a chicken." Damien grumbled.

"Don't be such a baby. Go take a cold a shower. Or turn the AC on." He said as he turned around a grabbed the AC control remote and turned the air on. "Better now?" He asked as he set the remote down again.

"Uh-huh."

After that they both fell sleep. Damien because tiredness of the heat, the emotional suspense of not knowing if Eliot was alive or not in San Lorenzo, the flight were finally kicking in. Eliot because he just hated the dry heat of this city, even if he grew up in the South.

When Damien woke up several hours after in the middle of the night because the room was too cold, he smiled when he realised that Eliot had a protective arm around him, his forehead against his shoulder and one of his very muscular legs was in between of his own. He got comfortable again, pulled the bed sheets higher to cover the both of them completely and fell sleep again, not before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of the head of the hitter.

His very deadly hitter.


	8. Chapter 8

**So, this is the only update you'll be seeing for at least one week. I'm going out of town and I won't have internet.**

**I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

Eliot woke up to find himself wrapped around Damien. When his still awakening brain registered this fact, he could only blink, confused. He was pretty sure that when the both fell sleep they had not been like that, as a matter of fact, each one was at one end of the bed, not even touching. And he did not move in his sleep, his body always in tension and ready to fight in case of danger, however now he was all over Moreau –his head resting on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand under his cheek, and one of his legs tangled with Damien's–, who only had an arm securely wrapped around his lower back.

He should get out of bed, he really, really should. Go for a run, train, bath, make breakfast, talk with Quinn and Mikel about their trip to Madrid… and yet, his body wasn't responding to his commands, sighing he closed his eyes and let himself relax, listening to Damien's heartbeat. His mind started replaying the kiss in the garage. He was acting like it wasn't that big of a deal, but it was. Of course it was. He did not expect it. Not in a thousand years. He wasn't stupid, he could see, _feel_, the way the European acted around him, how he touched him: it was not the way someone touched an old lover for whom you didn't feel love anymore.

He felt a hand drawing invisible circled in his back and then a low rumble came. "You think too much, Eliot."

"What?"

"You think too much." He repeated. "Just relax." He said and then moved so he could hug Eliot with both arms and then pressed a kiss on the top of his head.

And even though Spencer wanted to reply, he could only snuggle closer to him, sighing. They stayed in silence for a while, but Eliot had to know, _needed_ _to know_, about the kiss.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Damien asked, confused.

Eliot propped himself in his elbow and looked at Moreau straight in the eye before asking again. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Oh."

"Yes oh."

Damien stroke a cheek, softly before pulling Eliot down and kissed him on the lips. Again. Only this time it was more much gentler, almost just a caress, a simple yet meaningful touch.

"Damien…" He started to say when they pulled away.

"You mean a lot to me, Eliot." The older man said. "More than any other person ever has." The hitter nodded, for once not knowing what to say, so he did the only thing that he was willing to do: he lowered his head and rested his forehead on Moreau's, breaths mingling together.

After a few minutes Eliot sat down, rubbed his eyes and scratched his neck before he stood up and went to the shower. "You coming?" He said and Damien chuckled as he also got out of bed and followed the hitter inside the bathroom.

"Morning." Mikel said when she stepped inside the kitchen, where Eliot, Moreau and Keller were already having breakfast.

"Morning." Everyone replied and she cocked an eyebrow to the hitter when she realised that Damien had a hand on his knee, but Eliot didn't say nor do anything back, he just kept eating so she left it alone, for now. She sat down next to Keller and took a muffin.

"Did you sleep well, Mikel?" Damien asked.

"Perfect boss." She replied. "Reminded me of Israel." She said and Eliot chuckled.

It wasn't long until Quinn, Chapman and Nandi had joined them in the kitchen and Moreau told them about them going to Madrid. Chapman did not like the fact that he was left behind, but didn't say anything. He never did.

"Chapman." The Scottish looked at him.

"Yes Mr. Moreau?"

"You are going to head to Portland." At that Eliot frowned, but this time, he was the one who remained silent. "If Ford is looking for me, for us, we need to know what they know. Eliot, where can we find them?"

"BridgePort Brew/Pub. Hardison and Parker live there." He replied.

"Well, Chapman, you'll be heading to a Brew/Pub." The Croatian said, chuckling low.

"No." Eliot interrupted. "Chapman can't go there."

"And why not?" The Scottish asked, standing up, motion that Eliot copied.

"Sit down. Both of you." Moreau said and Quinn and Mikel saw, mesmerised, how Eliot did it, reluctantly, but did it. "Why not, Eliot?"

"Hardison will recognise him."

"Who the fuck is Hardison?" Keller asked.

"The one who made a book that you bought for quite good sum of money." Spencer growled at him. "The black guy from the pool." He told Chapman.

"The French?"

"He ain't French. He was playing a character. Anyway, if he sees you, he'll recognise you. They have the whole street and the bar covered with cams, so if they see you, we are busted." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We still need to send someone there, though." The only woman in the room said.

"I could go." Quinn said. "They know me, so they are not going to check me if they see me. I can even get in and bring you back some good stuff." The other American said and Eliot grinned. That could work. Hell, it _would_ work perfectly. They were so trusting they would never know that Quinn worked for Damien.

"I think it's a good plan." Eliot conceded and Mikel nodded her approve, all eyes now were on their boss, who nodded too, slowly.

"All right then. Chapman you are coming to Madrid. Quinn you are going to Portland. Nandi, Keller, I need you to go to Pakistan and do some smuggling." Moreau said.

"Boss?" The Israeli woman said.

"Yes? What is it?"

"This guy, Hardison, he is a hacker, he could easily search where Quinn has been if he suspects something so I suggest we get a hacker for ourselves." She proposed.

"Yeah. We should." Eliot said. "And I think I have the perfect candidate." He smirked at Quinn who growled low in his throat.

"I am NOT working with Chaos again!" The blond hitter growled, folding his arms over his chest, looking somewhat childish.

"What's Chaos?" Nandi asked, talking for the first time.

"Another hacker. Worked with him. Can't stand Hardison. Or any of the Leverage crew." Quinn replied. "He will work for you if he knows he can play with Hardison."

"Are you sure?" Damien asked, and although he didn't direct the question to anyone in particular, everyone knew he was talking with Eliot.

"Yeah. He will do anything to fuck Hardison up."

"All right then. Does anyone know how to track a hacker?" Damien asked.

"I still keep contact with him. Pulled a couple of jobs together." Mikel said. "I'll tell him."

"At this rate, we are going to need a freaking castle." Chapman muttered under his breath and Quinn, who was sitting next to him, chuckled.

"Ok. Once we are back, Mikel, you contact him, if he accepts, tell him to come over here with all of his equipment." Damien said as he stood up and Eliot mimicked him not even a second later. "Chapman, we are leaving tomorrow. Quinn… tonight. Nandi, Keller, tomorrow afternoon." He ordered and everyone nodded. "All right. Go pack your stuff. Chapman, tell the men we are going to be out and they are not allowed to leave the villa until I'm back."

"Yes sir." He stood up and left the room, going to gather his men to give them the direct orders from Mr. Moreau.

"Quinn."

"Yes boss?"

"You are going to stay there for three weeks. Every two days I want a report. Directly to me or to Eliot. Not anyone else" The younger hitter nodded and took a muffin as he stood up.

"I'm going to miss this." He said jokingly and Eliot rolled his eyes. "You should bake some for me."

"Sure. Huckleberry." The Southerner replied playfully and Quinn rolled his eyes at him before he left.

"Huckleberry?" Mikel asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Don't ask." Eliot replied, flipping his hair as he followed Moreau who was heading somewhere.

* * *

He hated long flights, even if it was flying in a freaking private jet with hot hostesses, delicious food and cold champagne. Quinn rubbed his eyes, groaned when the bright light of the outside hit him. Groaning he went to the taxi zone and got in the first one in line and gave him the paper with the address Eliot had given him. Forty minutes later he was in front of the Brew/Pub and he stepped in, going to the bar.

"Good afternoon." A waitress said to him.

"Best beer you got. And can you tell Ford and the others I want to see them?" He said, his tone gruffy.

"Ex-excuse me?" The waitress stuttered.

"Tell Nathan Ford that Quinn wants to talk to him." He said and she nodded. Not to many people knew about Nate and the guys. "But first bring me my beer."

"Y-yes Mr. Quinn. My name is Amy, by the way." She gave him the beer and then she went to the back. That man reminded her a lot of Mr. Spencer, the way he talked, with so much confidence, the way he walked… She opened the door and stepped in. "Hum… Mr. Ford?" They all turned around and Hardison changed the files in the screen.

"Yes, Amy?" The mastermind said.

"There's a man outside asking to see you." She said. "His name is Quinn."

"Quinn is here?" Parker said, excitedly and Amy nodded. "Cool!" The blond jumped off the table and ran to the bar. "Quinn!" She jumped on him and hugged him tightly.

"Uh… Hi Parker." He said, returning the embrace awkwardly.

"Hi, Quinn." The others said and they moved to the back of the pub again. "So, what you doing here, Quinn?"

"I'm in town for a few days, thought I could pay you a visit." He said, shrugging. "Hey hum… You still after Moreau?" The blond asked.

They all shared a hesitant glance. "Why…?" Sophie asked.

"Have some info on him." He replied.

"How…? We've been after him for almost two months now and we found nothing." Hardison said.

"I've got contacts." He shrugged carelessly. "I've heard he is going to do business somewhere in France in the next two weeks." Quinn said.

"Why are you helping us, Quinn?" Nate asked, suspicious.

"Well, you called me, remember? And for what I can see, you still don't have a hitter." He pointed out.

"No. We don't." Nate conceded. "You interested?"

"Can't sorry. I have a job in three weeks. Although I could stick around with you during this time if you want me to." He suggested.

"Really?" Parker's face literally lit up.

"Yeah." He nodded and then Ford nodded too.

"Alright. You have a place to stay?"

"Yeah. At a friend's." The hitter replied and then licked his lower lip before asking what had been eating since he had gotten with Moreau. "What happened with Eliot? Why did he walk away?" He asked. And surprised, he saw how Hardison, Ford and Devereaux narrowed their eyes and Parker scowled at them.

"He didn't. They made him." The blond said before storming out and, in acting instinctively, he followed her outside.

"Pa-Parker! Parker wait!" He yelled and grabbed her arm and spun the thief around. "Hey, what is it?"

"El didn't walk away. They told him he couldn't be part of the team anymore." She said, eyes glistening with tears. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yeah. We were together for a job in Germany." He lied to her. "He gave me a letter for you." He said as he pulled the letter from one of his inner pockets of his jacket. "Here. He said that you should read it alone." Quinn smiled to her and she hugged him tightly.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The hitter replied awkwardly, hugging the woman back. "Now, tell me, why did they say that to Eliot?"

She looked down and fidgeted a bit before replying. "Because he is… he is… he likes men and women."

Quinn blinked. Thinking that he didn't exactly understand her. Because it couldn't be possible, right? "You mean they kicked Eliot out of the crew because he is bisexual?" She nodded sadly and Quinn rubbed her back comfortingly. "I thought you already knew about this."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone knows Eliot is bisexual. Well, at least in our line of job almost everyone knows." He said. "You didn't think it was wrong, did you? You wanted him to stay?"

Parker nodded again before letting out a shakily breath. "I… I'm also bisexual… I wanted to go with him. But he said I couldn't. That I had to stay here, with them, with Hardison. He said he couldn't give me family like they could. But it ain't family without him."

Quinn hugged her even tighter to keep himself from getting up and kill the other three who were inside and screwing up everything. Eliot and Moreau wouldn't be too happy with him.

"It's alright, Parker. Eliot is alright." He whispered and almost chuckled as he guessed Eliot was actually _alright_ sleeping with Moreau in the same bed.


End file.
